


see, i'm smiling

by antoniohiggins (orphan_account)



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enjoy!, Heavy Angst, M/M, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE READING THE THINGS IN THE TAGS, Panic Attacks, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Soft!Spot, aka the only spot i can write tbh, but it's not graphic, he's trying, ok also jack makes an appearance, spot conlon more like soft conlon, there is more than just angst in this i promise, very brief mention of sex at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 16:34:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14359341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/antoniohiggins
Summary: sequel to 'still hurting'title is from the song 'see i'm smiling' from the last 5 years**please read the tags before reading for your own safety**





	see, i'm smiling

Hands. He could feel hands across his skin. He could feel fingernails digging into his chest and a hand wrapped lightly around his neck and hot breath against his face. He could feel pain. He could feel pain and terror and the most indescribable sensation of  _wrong_  surging through his body and his chest felt heavy like the weight of another person was crushing him.  _He felt everything._

He shot up in bed, gasping desperately for breath. He couldn’t tell if he was screaming out loud of it was all in his head.

Then they were back. The hands.

A tall man in dark blue clothes grabbed his arm as a woman in a long white coat laid him back down on the bed. He couldn’t see clearly, he couldn’t  _think_ , he couldn’t  _breathe_. Everything just felt so… _wrong_. He wanted to scream but there was something in him that was keeping his mouth shut tight. All he could do was lie there and wait for it all to be over.

It was just like…oh.

Oh. He remembered now. He remembered and it made everything worse. It made him feel like his body was ice and every hand that touched him was like fire melting him down to the bone.

He was almost out of his head as he struggled to find some way to get everything to just stop for at least a few seconds. Just enough for him to catch his breath, but he couldn’t get the words to form.   
  
The room was spinning, his heartbeat was pounding in his ears, he couldn’t feel anything but hands on his skin, and he felt like he might pass out.

He had heard of sensory overloads before, he’d even seen a classmate have one once back in middle school, but he had no idea what it was like until it was the only thing that seemed to make sense. All he could do was rip his arms away from them and push himself as far away as possible. He fumbled his hands around for the remote to lay his bed down flat as he slid backwards, pressing his back against the wall and staring wide-eyed at the display in the room in front of him.

The man in blue and the woman in white looked slightly afraid, both holding their hands up cautiously as if they thought he’d want to see them.  _As if-!_

He couldn’t stand to look at their hands as he squeezed his eyes shut tight, bringing his knees to his chest and hiding his hands under his thighs.

That’s when he heard it.

“What did you do to him?” A furious voice made him flinch as footsteps crossing the floor got closer and closer to him. The man and woman were speaking but he couldn’t tell what they were saying. Their voices were like background noise as the other voice kept going. “What’s wrong with him? What did you  _do?_ ”

He could hear that the boy was right beside him. He could feel the rage in his proximity as he only buried his face into his knees and cried. Not because of the boy beside him, but because of the rage that was radiating off of him whether he meant it or not.

He felt the mattress dip a few inches away and he flinched back slightly as he felt the boy’s hand reaching out to him.

“Tony?”

Oh. His tone softened a little as Race peeked out from his knees just a tiny bit.

The boy looked so heartbroken. His hair was a mess, there were bags under his eyes, and his lips were turned down slightly as if he was afraid of everything he said.

“Sweetheart, I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m so sorry. Please, just breathe, okay? Just follow me and take a deep breath, nice and slow,” he spoke gently as he kept his hands flat at his sides, which was enough for Race to manage a small nod.

“Spotty?” Race was embarrassed by his own voice as it filled his ears. It was small and shaky, clearly hoarse from lack of use.

But Spot didn’t seem to mind at all. His lips curled up into a shy smile as he quickly swept away a stray tear that escaped from his tired eyes.

“Yeah, it’s me Racer. I’m right here, just focus right here,” he murmured, keeping his tone soft and gentle as Race nodded once again. Spot took a deep breath, watching carefully as Race shakily did the same. He smiled sadly, exhaling as Race attempted to do the same. His voice hitched and more tears spilled out from his terrified eyes as he shrunk himself away from Spot. “No, no, no, it’s okay. It’s okay, you did so good.  _So, so good_. “

Race shook his head roughly, curling back up as Spot turned to the nurse who remained at the end of the bed and exchanged a few hushed words.

Moments later a pager was slipped into Spot’s hand and, just like that, they were alone.

Race could feel his body and mind screaming at him to run.

_He got you alone._

_He can hurt you now._

_No one will know._

_No one will ever believe you._

_He’s going to hurt you._

_Just like all the others._

_They’re all the same._

Spot was coming closer. He raised his hands up just like the doctors had and Race felt his stomach drop. Diving back into his pillow, he shut his eyes tight and burrowed himself as far down as he could.

There was a part of him that knew. That  _knew_  that this was Spot. This was the boy he loved with all his heart, but all of that now seemed secondary. Nothing he could think could overpower the raw, primordial  _fear_  coursing through his entire body.

He felt a hand rest on his lower back and that was it.

He screamed, completely involuntarily and subconsciously. He no longer cared about anyone else around him, he just wanted the hand to be gone. He could feel himself thrashing and shaking as ear-piercing wails wracked his body, but he didn’t care anymore.

The hand he felt was gone within seconds, but before he could even think about catching his breath, there were more. Unlike the first, there were at least three sets of hands. They were rough and aggressive and they grabbed his by the ankles and forearms, flipping him over and pinning him down.

His screaming stopped.

Not consciously, no. He just didn’t want them to hurt him and as one pair of hands grabbed him by the head and covered his nose and mouth with something, he was utterly terrified. Everything felt far too familiar and he just tried his hardest to block it out and focus on the only voice that wasn’t yelling at him.

_“Get your hands off of him! What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re hurting him, leave him alone!”_

Yes! Yes, that was it! If they would just  _let go_ , everything would be fine!

But they didn’t.

_“Sir, clearly he’s a danger to himself and potentially others. Please, we’re going to need you to calm down or you’ll have to be removed from the room.”_

He heard crying. He could hear painful, pleading sobs and he wanted to move his head just to see, but…the mask holding him down was  _so heavy_. Every breath felt labored, but he couldn’t let himself close his eyes. if he closed his eyes he might not be able to open them up again, and if he couldn’t open his eyes, then that meant they could do whatever they wanted to him.

There were echoing apologies from the boy in the corner, pleading for the others to stop and sobbing out ‘sorry’s that there was nothing he could do.

As the hand on Race’s body refused to let go, their unrelenting burns made him more and more willing to go as his eager inhales dragged him slowly back under and out of consciousness.

* * *

Spot Conlon struggled with anger issues his whole life, but there was always somewhere he knew to draw the line.

He never fought unprovoked, he just wasn’t that kind of person. However, no matter who it was, if he saw someone who needed helium he wouldn’t hesitate jumping in for a second. Growing up in an all-boys foster home, there were a lot of problems waiting to happen. The older boys would always pick on the younger ones and, for a long time, that was Spot. He learned to fight back and protect himself, but he never went without consequences.

Consequences no one else in the house dared to risk.

He stopped caring about getting adopted when he was ten. He’d been switched out of so many foster homes in so little time that it was easy to give up hope.

So, when the elusive ‘new kid’ stood up to the notorious Delancey brothers, Spot took notice. He found the kid that night in the house bathroom, frantically scrubbing at his face.

“Why are. You doin’ this?” Spot asked with a sense of teasing sarcasm.

He would never forget what that boy said back.

“Because,” he started, not looking to Spot at all. “When people want a foster kid, they don’t want the one covered in bruises. They want the one clean as a button so they can look like a saint in front of their friends for takin’ a foster kid. The problem is, they don’t want the extra burden of a kid who knows so much more about this shitty life than they ever will.”

Spot never forgot those words. He figured he’d use them in his speech at Jack’s wedding or something one day, but for the majority of his life, it gave him perspective.

Jack Kelly was a good kids, Spot decided that night. They fought for each other until, by some miracle, they got out of there together.

So Spot maintained his duties he felt he owed the kid. For all the shit they dealt with for years, Spot stuck by his side and Jack to Spot’s.

In the coming years as their small group began to grow, they both got the family they thought they never needed. They people they began to surround themselves with were all they really needed and, though years, he knew he’d do the same for any of them as he did for Jack.

There was a moment he knew that he’d do anything to protect Race. He had chosen Spot, of all people, to be the first person he came out to.

They were seventeen, watching bad Hallmark movies in Race’s family’s basement and comparing their friends to the characters when Race paused the movie and turned to his best friend.

“Hey, Spot? Can I ask you something?” Race’s voice had sounded just as it had back when he had told his friends he was trans two years before, but Spot thought nothing of it. He simply set their bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and shifted his position to properly face the other.

“Yeah, of course.”

Race swallowed and started moving his fingers in the hem of Spot’s sweatshirt that the other had given him to borrow.

“How did you know you liked guys?”

Spot had to stifle a laugh. Honestly, it had been years since they had last had a legitimate heart-to-heart conversation about this kind of thing and it was definitely not what he was expecting.

“Oh, well uh, I was around twelve or thirteen I think. I just met this new kid at the school I went to and thought he was cute. It was just like anyone else, really. I didn’t really even know it was different at the time,” he answered, smiling slightly as Race seemed to relax a little. “I guess I just let it happen and didn’t think too much.”

Race chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair. Spot remembered when Race had first cut his hair. His parents had been so upset, but Race was practically bouncing off the walls with happiness. His curly blonde hair used to reach all the way to his lower back and was usually tied sloppily on top of his head or in two pleats running over his shoulders. He never wore makeup, despite how many years his older sister spent trying to teach him, and he only owned Chuck Taylors, one of every color of the rainbow.

* * *

He never let his hair down and for years none of their friends ever knew why. It wasn’t until he showed up at Spot and Jack’s small studio apartment in the middle of the night with a razor and a pair of scissors in his hands begging Spot to help him cut it off that he started to get it. Race cried the whole time as he sat on the counter of their small kitchen, listening to clumps of his curls fall into the trash can behind him. Spot didn’t hesitate for a second when Race asked, but knew there was something else behind the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

“You okay?” Spot asked right before he plugged in the razor. Race nodded wildly, some stray pieces of hair falling as he did. “And you’re sure you want to do this?” Race nodded again.   
  
Spot took a deep breath, plugged in the razor and was inches away from the uneven hair on the back of his neck before he stopped, placing the razor on the counter and walking around to face the other.

“Talk to me, please,” he spoke softly, reaching up to brush away all of the fallen tears.

Race sniffled and took a deep breath.

“I don’t want to be a girl anymore,” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper as Spot grabbed one of his hands in both of his own and nodded.

“Okay,” he started, meeting the other’s eyes with a small smile. “How short do you want your hair?”

Race blinked as if he hadn’t expected that answer before a smile crept it’s way onto his face as well.

“M-maybe a little longer on top but still short on the sides?”

Spot chuckled and nodded, ruffling the boy’s hair as he grabbed the razor and kept going.

That night was the happiest Spot had ever seen his best friend in his entire life. To this day, he’d never seen a smile as wide as the one that covered Race’s face when he handed him a mirror and called him ‘handsome’.

Besides, if Race was a boy, then he was a boy. It wasn’t hard, he’d always liked being just like all of their other male friends, but never mentioned anything until that night.

* * *

Spot tried to shake off the memory as he returned his focus to the real Race in front of him. He had tears budding in his eyes and Spot could practically feel the fear radiating off of him.

“I...I think I’m gay, Spotty,” he spoke so softly Spot wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t so close. He smiled, opening his arms slightly as the other crawled into them to hold him tightly. “I can’t...I can’t tell them, they...they’d  _hate_  me.”

His parents. They didn’t take Race coming out as trans very well and he was right, they definitely wouldn’t with this either. They still used his dead name around anyone other than their immediate family, and even when they didn’t they only used nicknames to avoid calling him anything he wanted. In fact, he’d even told some of his friends that he barely even felt like a part of the family anymore.

“I know, Tony,” he mumbled into the other boy’s hair, tracing his fingers lightly down his spine. “I can’t say you’re wrong about that, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t wrong for not accepting it. I’m so, so proud of you, okay? That’s all that matters, not them.”

Race nodded into his chest, sniffling as he sat up properly. Spot could finally see his face and knew there was something else on the tip of his tongue. He moved closer, resting a hand on Race’s shoulder.

“What is it, Racer? I promise whatever it is, it won’t change anything I think about you,” he continued, his heart sinking a little as Race let out a bleak chuckle.

“Yeah, that’s where I think you’re wrong,” Race spat sourly, folding his legs in front of him. “How you think of me is basically the whole problem.”

Spot knew he probably had confusion written all over his face, but he hoped Race wouldn’t get upset.

The latter sighed, running a hand through his hair as he brushed under his eyes.

“It’s you, Sean. I-I like  _you,_ ” he mumbled, not looking up until Spot reached forward and lifted his chin. Race’s watery blue eyes were nervous, but hopeful as Spot leaned forward, meeting the other’s lips gently. Race let out a little sigh of surprise as he melted against Spot’s lips, throwing his arms around the other’s shoulders as he pulled himself closer.

Spot slid his arms around the boy’s waist, dragging him closer as they continued, both grabbing at each other until they were as close as possible. As they finally broke apart, they pressed their foreheads together, panting and grinning.

“Hey, T,” Spot breathed heavily. “Do you, maybe, want to be my boyfriend?”

Race’s breath hitched as he grabbed one of Spot’s hands.

“But I…you’re gay, don’t you want someone who-“

“Race, look at me,” Spot interrupted, leaning away as he took in the boy’s fading smile. “Are you a boy?”

Race seemed to hesitate for a second before Spot reached up and tucked one of his curls behind his ear.

“Y-yeah…yeah I am,” he spoke, almost as if he was afraid of saying yes.

Spot held his face in his hands, brushing off the tears that fell as he nodded.

“You are a boy, one hundred percent. There’s no doubt in my mind about it, and you know what that means?”

Race shook his head.

  
“It means, if you want to, I’d like you to be my  _boy_ friend. Not anything else.”  
  
Race grinned and rubbed his nose on his sleeve, nodding over and over. Spot pulled him in close, ran a thumb over his bottom lip gently, and kissed him again.

* * *

After that day he promised himself he’d never let anything happen to the boy he loved. He promised himself he would do everything in his power not to let a single person hurt him, but yet here he was. Locked outside a hospital room where Race was, apparently, in such unstable condition, he wasn’t even allowed to see him.

Spot practically felt the phone in his back pocket burning a hole through his sweats. He had been debating calling some of their friends ever since, but never did.

He figured he should at least call Jack, he was basically the only family Spot had, after all. He quickly dialed the boy’s number and it only rang for a few moments before Jack’s groggy voice answered.

“Hello?” He sounded hoarse and Spot took a second to glance at the time before mentally cursing himself for clearly waking him up.

“Ugh, sorry I just realized I had no idea it was so early, sorry dude,” he groaned.

“Nah, it’s fine,” he sighed, the ruffling of sheets in the background as he likely climbed out of bed. “What’s up?”

Spot ran a hand through his hair, looking around the hall to make sure it was empty as he shifted in his chair.

“It’s Race,” he started, looking back at the room he was sat outside of. His voice cracked and, if he wasn’t so damn exhausted, he might’ve been embarrassed. “Something happened, Jack. Something really, really bad and I don’t know what to do.”

Jack seemed confused and surprised as the tears became evident in the other’s voice.

“Spot, calm down, it’s okay, just breathe. Tell me where to go and I’ll be there,” Jack assured, already getting dressed on the other end.

He wiped his eyes and attempted to sound as normal as possible.

“Yeah, uh we’re at the um… _fuck_ ,” he hiccuped, breaking down again as he frantically tried to finish the conversation. “We’re at the h-hospital, Jackie. Please, just get here.”

Spot heard a car engine start in the background and exhaled, relieved.

“I’ll be there in twenty. Hang in there.”

Spot hung up the phone and tucked it back in his pocket, once again looking around the near-empty hallway before ducking into Race’s room.

The lights had been turned off and there was almost complete silence as he crept through the room.

God, he looked terrifying.

All the IV’s and machines were beeping softly as his boyfriend laid there completely still, save for his chest slowly rising and falling. Spot allowed his feet to carry him to the boy’s side as he pulled up a chair.

“Hey Ant,” he whispered, taking one of the boy’s hands in his two and kissing his knuckles. “I don’t want to wake you up, but I couldn’t wait any longer to see you.”

He kept his forced smile on his face as he watched his thumb trace the bony lines of Race’s hand. He sniffled, sighing sharply as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed running his fingers through Race’s hair gently as he carefully slid off the mask covering the boy’s face. He was focused on one thing and one thing only. Race. He didn’t notice that there were hot tears beginning to roll down his cheeks and he didn’t realize how fast his heart was beating, he just kept his attention on Race.

“I don’t know what to do, baby,” he whimpered, leaning down to lay beside the boy, still playing with the other’s curls. “But I swear I won’t let them hurt you like that ever again. I can’t… _believ_ ethe audacity they had to hurt you like that, I just-“

He stopped himself, taking a shaky breath as he kissed the boy’s temple.

“I promise you, with everything that I have and everything that I am, that I will  _never_  let anything like this happen to you ever again. I called the cops to that…that  _monster_ ’s apartment ages ago and even if that doesn’t work, I won’t stop until he pays for what he did to you,” his voice cracked and that was when he heard it. The door clicked shut behind him and he nearly fell off the bed as he turned around. “Jack?”

Jack stood in the dimly-lit room, the look on his face indistinguishable as he slowly moved across the room.

“Spot, what the hell?” He seemed more afraid than upset as he stepped towards the boy and Spot could finally see his face. His deep hazel eyes were wide and terrified as he chewed his lip, a nervous tick Spot immediately recognized. “H-he…he’s okay right?”

Spot quickly, brushed away his tears and wiped his nose on his sleeve as he shrugged.

“Depends on what you call okay,” he mumbled, looking back at the boy just a foot or so away. “Physically, yeah he’ll be fine, but…”

He stopped as he recalled the events of that morning, watching the scene playing over and over again in his head.

“But?”

Spot sighed, gesturing to the chair beside the bed for Jack to sit down as he returned to sit on the bed, once again taking one of Race’s hands in his lap.

“This morning…he woke up screaming, crawling away from anyone who tried to touch him,” Spot started, pausing for a second as he looked at Race’s hand in his own. He moved, laying the boy’s hand back down beside him half-heartedly. “It was so bad, Jackie. He looked so scared and I tried… _I tried so hard to get them to stop_.”

Jack wouldn’t look away from Race’s face.

“W-when the doctors and nurses came in, he was terrified. They wouldn’t stop touching him and they grabbed him by the arms and legs and pinned him down so they could sedate him, Jackie it was  _awful_ ,” he wept, as Jack blinked away his trance-like position and moved to sit beside the boy. Jack slid his arm around Spot’s shoulders and the latter leaned into his brother’s chest.

They were the closest thing to family that they had. Spot needed someone to hold onto and his little brother would always be ready.

“Sean, what happened?” He made sure to keep his voice soft and quiet as he felt the other notably stiffen in his arms.

“I can’t…h-he might not…,” Spot rambled as Jack took to rubbing up and down his back.

“Shh, it’s ok. I’m not gonna’ make you tell me anything you don’t want to, but I might be able to help if you at least give me a little bit to work with, okay?” Jack smiled a little as Spot nodded into his chest. “Thanks, brother.”

“H-he came home from class a few days ago and said he met some guy who told him his mom ran the auditions for the New York City Ballet,” Spot sighed shakily, his words only slightly muffled by Jack’s hoodie. “You know how we’ve been wanting to move forward a little bit. Hell, we’ve been living in the same apartment since sophomore year of college, but we’ve been talking about getting married for years, Jackie.  _Years._ ”

He seemed almost disappointed as Jack kept quiet to listen.

“We thought this was gonna’ be our chance,” he sniffled, his voice cracking angrily as he grabbed a fistful of Jack’s hoodie in his hand. “But that  _bastard…_ he-he _hurt him_ and now I don’t know if he’s gonna’ be okay after this. Jack, I can’t lose him! I can’t! I-I have to do something, I can’t lose him, I  _won’t_.”

“Hey, hey it’s okay. It’s gonna’ be okay, just…take deep breaths or something,” Jack chuckled awkwardly, eliciting a small snort from Spot as he sat up. “Can I…ask what he did?”

Spot took a shaky breath as he stood, walking up to the wall as he leaned his balled-up fists against it and rested his head against his hands. Jack was about to retract the question when Spot pounded on the wall, grunting out painfully and angrily.

“ _He fucking raped him, Jack!”_  He screamed, his face red with tears and fury as the other boy’s jaw dropped. His hand flew to his face, covering his face as he sat back down, sliding his hand through his hair frustratedly. “Here.”

Spot pulled out his phone, opened his messages from Race, and tossed the phone to Jack. He didn’t watch as the boy scrolled through the messages, simply staring across the room at the love of his life.

He smiled a little watery smile as Race’s nose twitched the way it always did when he slept and for a moment things didn’t seem so bad.

But then he kept moving. His lips parted slightly and he started tapping his fingers one by one on the side of the mattress.

“Spot, these are awful, I don’t-“

“Shh, hold on,” Spot quickly interrupted as he pulled Jack off of the bed, leading him back away from the bed as Spot rushed to his boyfriend’s side. “H-hey, sweetheart.”

Race sighed softly at the tone, blinking slowly as he cracked open his bright blue eyes.

Spot had tears spilling into his smile as he carefully kept his hands in his pockets and watched the boy orient himself.

“Hey, kid,” Jack waved from the side of the room as Race glanced over to him with a shy smile before it fell in seconds and his eyes went wide.

Spot knew he wouldn’t be able to stand watching a bunch of the hospital staff laying another hand on his boy so he quickly motioned for Jack to put his hands in his pockets.

“It’s okay, T. He won’t hurt you, I promise. I wouldn’t let him, baby, just take deep breaths, okay? In for five, out for seven,” he started, their eyes locked the entire time as Race nodded, taking in a deep breath as Spot counted softly. “You’re doing so good, Tony. So, so good.”

Race smiled weakly as he rubbed away the dried tear tracks on his cheeks.

“Sean?” Race’s voice was hoarse and barely-there, likely from screaming, yet it brought a grin to Spot’s face nonetheless.

“Yeah, it’s me, Racer,” he spoke, brightening slightly. “Is it...is it okay for me to touch you?”

Race paused for a moment, as of contemplating it.

“M-maybe,” he whispered, holding out his hand as Spot slowly slid it into his own.

Race shuddered at first, his heart beating faster and faster as he stared daggers at Spot’s hand.

“Too much?” Spot asked carefully, letting go as Race nodded, his nose twitching again. Spot smirked, realizing just how much effort the boy was putting into this. Whenever he was concentrating on something, his nose would not stop twitching and that only made it so much sweeter. “Babe, just relax. Do what feels natural, you don’t need to try so hard, I won’t be mad at you for saying it’s not okay, I promise. You being comfortable is the only part of this that matters, just tell me to stop and I will, no question.”

Race’s eyebrows crinkled slightly as a tiny smile crept onto his face.

“How’d you know?”

Spot scoffed jokingly, a fond gaze in his eyes, “Your nose. Seems like you need to keep working on that poker face, Higgins.”

Race beamed and, for the first time since before everything fell apart, Spot had a little bit of hope that maybe they would be okay.

“How about your hair? You usually like when I play with your hair, could we try that?” Spot suggested as Race shrugged, a shy blush covering his cheeks.

“Uh, hey Spot? I’m gonna’ give you guys some space. I’ll be down the hall in the cafe if you need anything,” Jack spoke up as he slipped out the door.

Spot looked back at Race, a knowing smirk on both of their faces.

“Bootycall?”

“Definitely.”

“Damn, that boy’s got him whipped,” Race joked, a small chuckle following.

Spot shrugged and carefully wound a few of Race’s curls between his fingers. “I mean, I could say the same.” Race was grinning ear to ear as Spot gently wove through his hair. “This is okay?”

Race nodded and sighed, leaning into Spot’s hand as he tucked a piece of hair behind his ear.

“Maybe...it wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t touch my skin,” Race suggested shyly as he slid his hands under the bedsheet. Spot’s hand met his own and, through the sheet, folded their fingers together. “Y-yeah that’s nice.”

Spot couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he traced his free hand up and down the boy’s covered arm.

“Hey, Spotty?” Race spoke up timidly, making the other immediately retract his hands. “No, no, no you’re okay, I just…was wondering if I could try something.”

Spot chuckled at his formality, holding in so dearly to the light in his eyes.

“Anything, sugar,” he teased, folding his legs up in front of him.

Race blushed scarlet as he ducked his head under the sheet. Spot couldn’t help but smile at the eccentricity that thankfully hadn’t faded one bit.

“Kiss me,” Race spoke from under the sheet, a lilting laugh in his voice as if he realized how ridiculous it was. “Please, Spotty.”

His drawn out words were like music to Spot’s ears as he silently prayed that Race might actually be okay again. His smile was brighter than the sun and Spot would do anything to make sure it wouldn’t face.

So he leaned in, grabbed the boy’s cheeks through the thin sheet, and kissed him. They couldn’t stop laughing as Race eventually had to break off for air and Spot turned around to see Jack standing in the doorway once again.

“Shit, hey Jackie,” Race laughed as he tucked his face out from under the sheet. His cheeks were bright red and his hair was sticking up every which way, but Spot ran a hand through it and it was slightly tamed.

Jack crossed the room, hopping onto the bed as he slung an arm around Race’s shoulders.

“Glad to see ya’ looking more like yourself, kid,” he smirked, pausing after a moment as he realized Race was sitting stiff as a board under his touch. “Racer, you okay?”

He didn’t respond as Spot instead reached over and practically threw Jack’s arm off of the boy whose face had gone stark white and lost its smile in seconds.

“I’m-I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Race repeated, pushing himself farther and farther back on the mattress until, once again, his back was pressed against the freezing cold wall and his arms were wrapped tight around his knees.

Jack looked terrified as he backed away slowly, holding his hands up in an attempt to dispel the boy’s panic, but the second he did, Race looked like he’d just seen a ghost.

“Hands in your goddamn pockets, Kelly,” Spot hissed, yanking the bedsheet over Race as he grabbed one of his hands through it.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Jack rambled, backing himself out of the room as Race squeezed his eyes shut.

“Listen to me, ‘Tonio,” he started, moving back slightly as Race began to breathe easier. “Just focus on my voice, nothing else, okay?”

Race nodded frantically, keeping his eyes clenched shut as he held his fists so tight his nails dug into his palms.

“We’re gonna’ breathe real slow together if you can try for me, okay?” Race nodded again. “Deep breath in for five, and out for seven.” Spot counted along just as he had before and Race seemed to be doing better.

“D-d-don’t let him…p-please,” Race shuddered as he moved his hands to grab onto his arms, digging in his nails just as before. “I-I don’t want t-t-to.”

Race seemed exhausted, out of breath and sweating as he slowly unfolded his legs. Spot quickly took his hands for just a moment, stopping him from digging into his skin as he immediately retracted them once he knew Race wouldn’t be able to hurt himself.

“No, no, no, baby no one’s going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, I swear. Tell me what you want to do and I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you, just try to keep going with the deep breaths,” he spoke softly. “I love you so much, Ant. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Race reached out and grabbed Spot’s hoodie sleeve, pulling him down to lay side by side on the small bed. Spot almost jumped out of the bed at the surprising gesture, but relaxed a little as he felt Race’s sheet-covered arms stretch around him. Spot smiled, moving to stretch the divide between them.

“I’m tired,” Race whined, laughing sightly as a yawn broke through the end of his words. “What time is it?”

Spot pulled out his phone and held the screen up to Race, showing him it was barely past noon.

“Fuck, I would’ve believed you if you said it was midnight,” Race joked, yawning again as he held onto Spot tightly. “Can I take a nap?”  
  
Spot shrugged and kissed the top of Race’s head gently.

“If you’re sure. I don’t want you getting scarred again ‘cause I’m holding you. I know…last time it was different, but I don’t want to scare you, T,” Spot started, a nervous embarrassment in his tome. “I don’t wanna’ rush you into anything you’re not ready for.”

Race nodded, burying his face deeper into Spot’s soft hoodie.

“I know, I just…I wanna’ try. Maybe…if you could fall asleep before me?” Spot looked confused as Race leaned back to face him. “You know, so I know…not that I think you would do anything! I just…my brain doesn’t believe me, but I know you’re not going to hurt me.”  
  
He sighed, shifting back a little as he ditched from Spot.

“It’s like I know you would never hurt me in here,” he started, jabbing a finger into his chest towards his heart. “In here, I know that I love you, and that you love me, and that I don’t have anything to be afraid of when I’m with you.”

His soft, content smile faded a little as he raised his finger, jabbing it angrily into his temple.

“But in  _here_ , my body is screaming at me to get away from you and every single thing that touches my skin feels like  _fire_. It’s like…my brain is lying to my heart and I can’t control which one’s winning,” he whispered, a crack in his voice that dragged him back into Spot’s embrace. “It hurts  _so fucking bad_ , Spotty. It hurts so bad, but if I let go it hurts even more.”

Spot couldn’t stop staring up at the ceiling. The flickering white light stared back as he pulled Race close against his chest just like he had done for years and years.

“If you want to let go of me, I won’t stop you. Even if you want to let go of me completely, I won’t stop you. I could never stand knowing I was hurting you, so if you think it would be best to take a break, I’ll be here waiting if you want to try again,” Spot spoke emotionlessly. He kept his eyes trained straight up, at the ceiling, knowing that if he were to look down at the boy inches arms he would lose it. It took everything he had in his soul to say those words. He never wanted to lose Race, it was the one thing keeping him going, but if being together hurt him, Spot would do whatever he needed to stop it.

“N-no, no, please no,” Race practically wept, surprising Spot as he ripped his gaze back down, meeting Race’s watering blue eyes. “P-please, I can’t lose you.”

Spot smiled and let out a relieved chuckle.

“Good, because I really didn’t want to have to do that,” he grinned, ruffling Race’s hair as the other smiled the same. “In fact, I don’t think I ever want to leave you.”

Race tried to clear the tears from his face as he nodded.

“I-I don’t either,” Race mumbled, grabbing Spot’s hand through the sheet just like before as he displayed the brightest grin across his face.

Spot pursed his lips as if he was considering something before sliding off the bed. He motioned for Race to scoot forward as the boy sat on the edge of the bed, dangling his legs over the edge. Spot tucked his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath.

“Last night made me realize something,” he started, making a mental note of how Race flinched at the mention of what happened the night before. “That if I ever lost you, there is no possible way I’d be able to recover from that. The others, don’t ever tell them I said this, but I feel like with therapy and shit for a few years I’d be okay, but  _you_. I don’t know how I could possibly live without you. I…I nearly lost you and I could barely stand it, so hopefully this will prevent that a little bit.”

Spot grinned nervously as he kneeled on the cold linoleum floor and saw Race’s jaw drop.

“You’re gonna’ get into the ballet one day and when you do, I’ll be right there with you. I’ll be at every show with the proudest smile annoying all the nice people around me by telling them all, ‘That’s my boyfriend. That’s the boy I love more than anything and that’s the boy I’m going to marry one day’,” he gushed as Race’s hand flew up to cover his mouth. “I know we wanted this to be our chance at being a little more stable, but we were fucking idiots, as usual.” Race chuckled wetly with the happiest tears in his eyes. “It doesn’t fucking matter whether we can afford a ring because all you’re gonna’ do is lose it and really all that matters is making sure you know that whatever happens to us, I’m in it for the long haul and I hope you are too. So, with no ring, no rush, and no need for anything other than us at the goddamn courthouse, Antonio Higgins, will you marry me?”

Race is already sobbing when he finishes, granting Spot a teary nod as he launched himself onto the ground, seizing Spot’s face in his hands as he kissed him sharply. Spot had a grin breaking apart his side of the kiss, but Race launched himself back in a few seconds anyway.

“Sorry,” he breathed heavily, placing his head between his knees to center himself. “Thought that would go better.”

Spot smirked, moving himself to sit beside the other.

“I’m not complaining about getting a kiss,” he grinned, cocking his head towards Race who held his embarrassed look for barely a second before is broke into a huge grin. “But I won’t be asking for one until you tell me that won’t happen. I can wait, Tony.”

Race nodded, leaning over as he rested his head on Spot’s shoulder. His hand laid on his knee as Spot dug into his pocket and pulled out a beanie. Race watched his fingers as Spot tugged on the ball of yarn at the top of the hat until he forced a small piece loose.

His hands carefully slid the yarn around Race’s left ring finger, tying it into a bow before Spot bent down and kissed it softly.

They didn’t say anything as Race inevitably dozed off on Spot’s shoulder. The latter pulled out his phone and took a picture of the boy’s hand before texting Jack that Race was asleep and he should probably go home.

So eventually when the nurses came back in, Spot made sure they all knew what Race had told him. Race seemed much more comfortable that time around, but as the nurses had to adjust his IV drip to flush the rest of the drugs out of his system, Race let Spot hold his pinky finger, which was more than enough to satisfy them both.

After another day or two, Race was discharged and allowed back home with a giant list of antibiotics and anti-anxiety medication that Race joked he had been taking nearly his whole life already. He reluctantly upped his dosage, started going to therapy a few times a week, and eventually started going out with his friends again.

For nearly a month after it happened, he wouldn’t let anyone touch him. Except for Spot, that is. Spot was allowed his arms, shoulders, and neck, a privilege he made sure to take advantage of at all times just in case anything were to set the other boy off. Race essentially had a hand on Spot at all times. The others, however, understood completely and it only took an extra few weeks before he started warming up to them as well.

He and Spot would sometimes practice at home in their tiny apartment that now seemed perfect. They would sit across from each other in shorts and tank tops and Spot would carefully test the waters on how far across Race’s body he was allowed to trace before he would ultimately stop him. It worked pretty well, especially after Race would do the same to Spot and just try to see how long he could go without needing to stop and compose himself.

They didn’t move past things like that for nearly a year. Sure, it was an unspoken mutual agreement that sex was off the table, but neither of them ever really talked about limits. They both sort of just…stopped whenever the other told them to. It seemed normal, neither of them really wanted to think about things like sex after everything, but it was a little bit strange as they were  _extremely_  sexually active before. In fact, any of their friends would say whenever they went out, the two couldn’t get their hands off each other, but now things were different.

If the most mundane things sometimes brought on Race’s panic attacks, Spot couldn’t imagine what something like sex would do.

So, he didn’t ask and neither did Race. They stayed that way for almost a year before when their next anniversary came around again and Race announced that he wanted to try.

Five minutes in and Race couldn’t even bring himself to take his pants off.

So instead they laid together in as little clothing as they each could bring themselves to be comfortable with. They would work their way up to it eventually.

So when they ultimately did decide to marry each other, none of their friends knew. Spot went over to Jack’s apartment the night before he and Race made an appointment at a local courthouse to just elope and keep it quiet, and told his brother everything. He told him about the night he ‘proposed’ and how that piece of yarn Race had started wearing around his finger wasn’t just something for his hands to fiddle with. He told him how he was finally happy and how, after everything, they realized they didn’t need any of the things they originally had thought they needed to be happy.

Sure, they had wanted to eventually move out of their shared studio they’d been living in since sophomore year of college, but they were perfectly happy there for now. Yes, they had originally wanted a big wedding with a bunch of their friends and family, but all they really needed was each other. They wanted a family and a stable job for both of them, but those things could wait as long as they were always working towards them. Baby steps were still steps in their minds, no matter how long it took.

So Jack was happy for them and when the two boys showed up to the groups next movie night with mismatched pawn shop rings on their fingers and an obvious light in their eyes, they found out.

They took baby steps to put their life back together and, despite the thought that it would be better to just accept that things were different now, they were stubborn people and stubborn people who love each other more than the world don’t just settle for broken.

They take ‘broken’, they make him know it’s okay to still be broken, and help him put himself back together.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much to all of you who read this. it means the world to see your support so all kudos/comments are greatly appreciated:)
> 
> find me on tumblr @tony-higgins to see some of my other works before they get published here, as well as my shitty art and moodboards inspired by my writng!
> 
> <3<3


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